


Crowley saves Javert

by wearerofthehat



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-26 03:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1672406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearerofthehat/pseuds/wearerofthehat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title is pretty self-explanatory. By some weird coincidence Crowley is at the bridge when Javert jumps, and saves him without thinking. Not only that, but somehow, without really trying to - without even the intention to do so - he convinces Javert that it would be an utter waste of time to try again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crowley saves Javert

Crowley was there as a tall man in a heavy black triple-caped coat lifted himself up onto the parapet of the Pont au Change.

Crowley would never be able to tell what exactly motivated him to surge forward into the air just as the man on the bridge let himself fall down towards the Seine below, but surge forward he did and he was just able to reach the man before the man reached the water. Having only been designed to lift one body, his wings really shouldn’t have been strong enough to lift both of them up, but that really didn’t occur to Crowley and so it didn’t really occur to his wings either. Thus, within thirty seconds both demon and man were back on the bridge where it all started, and each was extremely annoyed with the other.

“Why did you do that?” demanded Javert, shaking the demon by the shoulders as if he had personally affronted him.

“Why did _you_ do _that_?” demanded Crowley in turn. On his part, he was appalled and bemused. He had been around for almost five thousand years and seen some bloody awful things and had never attempted to off himself once, thank-you very much. (1)

“What are you anyway?” asked Javert, feeling like a change of topic was in order. “Wings, and your eyes – admittedly I cant see them very well in the dark, but they appear to be a snake’s – you are certainly not human.”

Crowley smirked. This will be good.

“I am a demon.”

The man’s reaction was weird. Crowley was used to shock, disgust, horror, terror… not a sort of pained _resentment._ And it did not seem to be directed at him either, but rather than the situation at large.

“A good demon, that’s rather like a saintly convict,” Javert muttered to himself darkly. Then he addressed Crowley directly. “No. I refuse to be party to a hell that cannot even get its roles right. Besides, that would completely defeat the purpose of escaping this one.” Then he picked his hat and his identification seal off of the parapet, placing his hat back on his head and his seal back in his pocket.

“Good day,” he said to the demon, “or good night, if you prefer,” he amended wryly, gesturing to the darkness around him. Then he abruptly turned around and walked away leaving a very bemused demon in his wake. Crowley shook himself out of it with great difficulty. It was true that he had not understood half of the exchange, but one thing seemed certain. He had not idea how it had happened, but apparently he had not only saved the man, but convinced him not to try again.

Then Crowley too, left the bridge, blessing under his breath as he did so. It was a just as well that he had got that commendation for the carnage earlier that day or else there would be a lot to make up for.

He was not _meant_ to be good, after all. It just sort of… _happened_.

(1) Repeatedly drowning himself in alcohol was another matter entirely

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! um, after writing this I have remembered that Crowley slept through the whole of the nineteenth century, and so his meeting Javert at all is rather implausible. If you like, you can pretend that Hell (which was actually keeping proper tabs on Crowley for once) noticed that he was falling behind on his bad acts quota and woke him up with a stern message to get his act together. Which then led him to hover around scenes of devastation and destruction such as Paris in June 1832.


End file.
